The World Was Burning
by understarryskies
Summary: The Apocalypse had come and now the world was burning with the Winchesters in the middle of the flames. General.


The world was burning. It only took one look outside the window to see that. Above the crumbling buildings the darkening sky was dissolved by an orange glow, the glow of a fire blazing somewhere in the evening. The clouds that hung low overhead were another testament to the destruction. They had long stopped being rainclouds, now formed from the smoke spewed across the sky. When the sun did manage to peer through the suffocating grey cloak, it was weak, as if close to death. Ironically enough, it was the fires that were keeping the city warm.

Sam drew away from the window and moved over to his own modest orange glow. Dean was already there, hunched over and staring into the flickering flames. In his hand he fingered the knife, running his thumb along the blade. There were two half-healed cuts on his thumb-pad where he had, in a moment of distraction, spilt his blood on the knife's sharpened edge. Sam knew what he was thinking about. There were few other things that occupied his brother's mind.

"You couldn't have saved him." Dean didn't look up. It had become somewhat of a ritual for them, these short conversations that mentioned no names in a bid to pretend that everything was going to be alright. Sam knew what Dean could see in his mind's eye; the surprised look, then fear, pain and finally the dead eyes, dead human eyes and the stream of blood below them. Dean had caught Castiel when he fell, or Jimmy, whoever was still left. They were both already dead anyway. Sam had gone straight for Zachariah with the knife but the angel had vanished before he could carve the smirk from his face. They were left there alone, kneeling on the floor of the old warehouse, mentally scratching another friend from their photograph.

"I know Sam." The exhaustion lay so thick in his brother's voice, Sam couldn't stop concern crossing his face. "But he's still gone. Sometimes I just wonder if we're still doing the right thing."

"You can't back out now Dean. This was your choice from the start. Don't try and flip the table on me now." Somewhere outside a scream rent the air, ending in a horrifying gurgle. A month ago the Winchesters would have sprinted to the aid of whatever poor creature was being ripped to shreds but now Sam just lowered himself down next to his brother who screwed his eyes shut as he tried to block out the chilling sound. They had long since realised that there was no point in trying to save those too weak to save themselves. It had taken two near death experiences but they knew now that that no matter how fast they ran nor how quick they could fire their guns, it was too slow to save the person who screamed.

"But did I make the right choice?" Sam would never admit it to his brother but he had spent many long sleepless nights churning that question over and over in his mind. He had chewed it up and spat it out so many times it didn't sound right to him anymore. In the end it always came down to two simple facts; One: he could never ever turn against his brother, let alone say 'yes' to the Devil. Two: Neither he nor Dean could let the will of Heaven eat the Earth. So they had turned to the third option and fought. So when Dean finally voiced the question that had been hanging in the air above his head, the answer was already on Sam's lips.

"Yeah, _we_ made the right choice." Dean stared at him, eyes focusing on something far away. Sam knew he was looking at the photograph that had burned with the world. So many of their friends were gone, Ellen, Jo, Cass. Bobby had disappeared but he still called them from time to time with more leads or just to check that they weren't a corpse on the street yet. Asides from him, it was only Sam, Dean and the Impala not that she got much of a chance to stretch her legs. Their family was growing smaller and smaller as the war closed in around them.

"But the World is burning, Sammy."

"The World was always going to burn."

Somewhere outside another person screamed and died. Their cry echoed emptily in the night as they were wiped from existence. In the nooks and crannies of the world, survivors huddled around their fires as the larger flames lapped at their ankles. In the spaces of the dark they held onto their sanity and silently wished for dawn. Not once did they raise their heads and pray.


End file.
